on the move, me jumping over the back of the couch.
“Excuse me,” Trav cuts in, a bite entering his tone. “But who the fuck are you? And what the hell do you want?”
As we close the distance to the door, I can see Trav standing with his feet spread wide and arms folded across his chest, effectively blocking the doorway like a bouncer working the door at a club.
His outburst provokes a feminine gasp, but my inner coach and I are mentally high-fiving each other.
“How dare you speak to us that way?” Incredulity bleeds from the tone of whoever the man is.
“I’ll talk to you however I damn well please.” I don’t have to see him to know Trav’s wearing his Fuck you very much smile. “You show up at my family’s home and insult my sister in front of me”—he shrugs his shoulders, the action seeming more intimidating since he doesn’t uncross his arms—“there’s not a fucking chance I’m going to be polite.” He spits the word out like a curse.
I knew my best friend had grown close to my girl and that is why he is instinctively protective of her now, but if Kay were to hear Trav calling her his sister the way she does with Tessa, there’s a chance it might actually make her cry.
“Sister?” the female says. “We know who Eric Dennings is, and you are not him.”
“Doesn’t make Kay any less my family.” If it’s possible, Trav’s chest widens more as he continues to hold his protective stance. “Now, again…who the hell are you and what do you want?”
Grayson and I flank Trav on one side while E and Carter occupy the other. The couple in front of us is older, around my stepfather’s age. The man is in what I recognize as a custom-tailored Armani suit under his unbuttoned wool coat, and on the woman, I can only see the stilettos and a genuine strand of pearls due to the buttons on her long peacoat being done up. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut.
I have a hunch who they are, but having never met Liam Parker’s parents, I can’t be certain.
“Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” E says, voice like steel, confirming my suspicions. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” He says the final word much the same as Trav did polite.
“So rude,” Mrs. Parker chastises. “Obviously you weren’t raised right.”
“Make another dig against my father and I won’t hesitate to call the police.” E turns deadly serious.
The way the Parkers’ eyes try to look over our shoulders, it’s obvious they’re waiting for an invitation inside, but we aren’t having it. Mr. Parker lets out a dramatic sigh when he realizes this fact.
“We’re here to talk about these ridiculous charges you insist on pressing against my son.” How he can say that with a straight face, I’ll never know. What I do know is I have the overwhelming urge to lay him out the same way I want to do to his spawn.
“Ridiculous?!” Trav bellows before I can.
E places a hand on Trav’s shoulder, silently telling him to back down and let him handle the situation. We don’t need any of us flying off the handle and making things more complicated.
“Mr. Parker.” E waits for the patriarch of the Parker family to turn his attention to him before he continues. “I assure you there is nothing ridiculous about the assault and battery charges we brought against Liam. My sister had to have surgery to repair the cheekbone your son broke with his fist. That’s not even taking into account the fact that he knocked her unconscious or the countless other bruises she incurred from his unwarranted attack.”
“Unwarranted?” Mrs. Parker screeches. “Liam was only protecting himself.”
“In what world would a guy who’s over six feet tall and a football player to boot need to use his fists to ‘protect’”—E uses air quotes around the word—“himself from a girl who doesn’t even top five feet?” He pauses, waiting for a response. “Please…enlighten me. I would really like to know.”
Color rises from Mr. Parker’s neck up into his nostrils-flaring, jaw-clenching, ugly face while—I shit you not—Mrs. Parker clutches at her pearls like a 1950s housewife. It’s clear they don’t have an answer to E’s argument, and a weighted, uncomfortable silence stretches on.
“You know…” Trav finally loosens his defensive posture. “It really is too bad the footage of what happened leaked onto social media.” He looks at me over his shoulder, giving a We can talk about